


promise (i’ll be there)

by hyungsobbing



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, if u squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:55:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21871831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyungsobbing/pseuds/hyungsobbing
Summary: Yeosang doesn’t expect much when he turns up at the doorstep of Big Hit Entertainment with nothing but a crumpled namecard and small-town dreams.He gets a lot.
Relationships: Jung Wooyoung/Kang Yeosang
Comments: 16
Kudos: 263





	promise (i’ll be there)

**Author's Note:**

> before u continue w this fic pls be aware that there isn’t really much reliable info on predebut woosang, so parts of this fic are...you know, artistic license! that being said, this fic is also not proofread so if there’s any grammatical info or such please tell me! thank u

_Spring, 2014_

At sixteen years old, Wooyoung signs his soul over to the devil. 

Well, to be fair, CEO Bang isn’t so much of a demon—just a very stressed boss, with too much on his plate to spend much time acquainting him to the trainee life. Wooyoung can’t blame him, with all the rush and bustle around Big Hit Agency. An older trainee tells him that there’s a rookie group set to release a comeback soon, and Wooyoung, with all the naivety of a sixteen-year-old, smiles and asks if he can get their signatures to sell it on Ebay in the future. 

The trainee, Gyumin, ruffles his hair, lips twitching. “If you can catch them, then go ahead, kid.”

“What does that mean?” Wooyoung says. In his defence, he’s _sixteen_! No one has taught him how to read between the lines yet. 

“It means that you’ll soon see the glaring distinction between the upper class and lower class.” Gyumin says, not unkindly. 

“The...lower class?” 

“Us. You, me, and every other trainee not on the debut list.” Gyumin can’t be more than a year or two older than Wooyoung, but the jadedness and nonchalance in his tone is startling. 

“It’s every man for himself out here, Wooyoung.” Gyumin continues gravely, and it takes all of his self-control and more to not burst out laughing. 

-

Wooyoung learns that trainee life is different. Not in a terrible way, though. It’s relatively easy for him to adapt to the strenuous routines. He loves dancing, so he can’t really bring himself to mind the daily six-hour dance training and lessons. 

The same can’t be said of the mandatory vocal and rap lessons—it’s not like Wooyoung hates it, but he definitely feels like there are better things he could be doing rather than be cooped up in a studio warming up his voice for a whole hour, and learning how to perfect his flow and rhythm. 

Singing comes easier than rapping. After a month of being grilled relentlessly by the vocal instructor, the instructor pats his head and compliments him on learning quickly in front of the other trainees.

Dorm life isn’t too bad either. Wooyoung loves making friends, loves talking to new people and making them laugh, so he has no problem slotting himself into the circle of trainees within the first few weeks.

Gyumin was right—he never does meet the Big Hit group. He hears snippets of conversation about their debut last year and their upcoming comeback, and how the stylists and makeup-noonas stress over their next comeback outfit. Out of curiosity, he does a quick Google search and comes up with the name BTS. Their debut was unremarkable, with their song breaking exactly zero records, and barely managed to scrape a breakeven for the company.

Wooyoung takes an instant liking to their sound, and after spending hours hidden in his dorm bed watching their videos, swears that he’ll debut as soon as possible in order to be able to catch up with them. 

And as far as things are going, it seems like he’s on the right track to debut. It can’t be too far off until the company decides to debut another boy group, and he’s pretty confident in his abilities—the dance trainer, at least, tells him that Wooyoung’s one of best dancers he’s ever seen in the company. 

Yet, it doesn’t feel complete. He doesn’t expect trainee life to feel perfect or wholesome. He knows that the struggle and competition to debut is tough, but it just feels like there’s something, or someone, out there, waiting to be found. 

-

_Autumn, 2014_

When the scout approaches him on the street, pulling out a business card, Yeosang doesn’t think much of it. He unplugs his earphones, one foot on the ground to stabilise his skateboard. He says he’ll think about the offer, but really, he only says it to get the scout off his chest. 

A week later, a tiny, rumpled square of paper falls out of his pocket as he executes a textbook flip, skateboard coming to rest on the edge of the park. 

“What’s this?” His friend, Hyungseob asks curiously, picking up the square of paper and unfolding it. “Ew, is this chewing gum stuck to it?” 

Yeosang shrugs, indifferent. “Someone came up to give this to me a week ago.” 

“Dude, an entertainment agency? Have you already auditioned?” Hyungseob squints at the tiny black lettering on the name card. “Big Hit?”

“The guy told me to just turn up at the front door whenever I was free for a short interview.” Yeosang hums. “Toss that out on your way home.”

“Are you crazy?”

Yeosang makes a minutely offended sound, too lazy to bother defending himself. “I’m not interested in becoming an idol.” He says dismissively. 

“You totally should! They make big bucks—”

“—Only after they debut and become successful—“

“And I can sell all your old shit online when you become famous. See, win-win!” Hyungseob nods, almost seeming proud of his nonsensical reasoning. 

Yeosang doesn’t dignify his ridiculous notions with a response, instead rolling his eyes and preparing to skate up the ramp for another new trick he’d seen some seniors pull off. 

“It’ll be fun!” Hyungseob says unconvincingly, and Yeosang snorts. “The part where they force me to train twenty-four seven? Or the part where I won’t be able to skate anymore?”

Hyungseob makes a vague gesture with his hands. “You know, the whole idol stuff... the fame and money and things like that.”

“I’m not that interested in fame,” Yeosang says, meaning to end the conversation as soon as possible so he can get on with that cool trick. 

Unwillingly, Hyungseob lets the issue rest. But when Yeosang lies awake in bed that night, eyes staring vacantly at the peeling plaster ceiling, he wonders if this whole idol thing could work out. If he could really become an idol successfully just coasting by on his looks—after all, that’s what the scout noticed him for, isn’t it? 

The money would be a definite selling point. Their rent was coming up soon, and between their utility bills and food expenditures, Yeosang isn’t sure if his mother can afford another month’s rent without their electricity and water being cut off again. 

When he gets up the next morning, the tiny, inconspicuous namecard sits heavy in his pocket. 

It’s a Saturday morning, but his mother has left for her second job since five in the morning. Making a split-second decision, Yeosang picks up his skateboard, plugs his earphones in, and sets off towards Big Hit Agency. 

-

“Did you hear?” One of the trainees says eagerly. “There’s a new trainee coming in this week!”

“Who is it?” 

“How would I know? Guess we’ll just have to wait for him to come in.”

“It’s been so long since we’ve had new trainees, isn’t it?” Gyumin says, and the trainees murmur in assent. Wooyoung wonders, absently, if the new trainee would be willing to check out the new chicken place that had just opened around the corner with him. 

-

“This is the trainees’ shared dorm, and there are four people to a room.” The manager introduces briefly, and Yeosang nods, fingers frozen to the handle of his luggage in apprehension. 

_He enters the company, board tucked under his arm. It’s not a terrible large building, but there’s an aura around it that makes Yeosang’s heartbeat speed up._

_Namecard clenched tightly in his hand, he stands in the reception, eyes wide, staring around him. There are people rushing around him, boxes in their arms and one of them pushes past Yeosang, making him stumble slightly._

_“Are you here for something, boy?” A slightly older man asks, tone neutral._

_Hesitantly, he extends the rumpled namecard. “Someone told me to come here for an interview?”_

_The man’s gaze softens with understanding. “Oh, so you’re the prospective trainee the scout found. What’s your name?”_

_“Kang Yeosang.” He says, gaze wandering all around the reception area._

_“Follow me, I’ll bring you up.”_

_Yeosang walks quietly behind the taller man, slightly intimidated. “I’m Lee Sunho, but you can call me Manager Lee. The person that approached you on the street is one of our talent scouts, and you’re just going to go for a short interview to see if you’re fit for our company.”_

_Yeosang nods mutely as they step out of the elevator onto the sixth floor._

_Manager Park opens the door to a nondescript room. “I’ve contacted some of our staff and they’ll just ask you a few questions and you’re free to go, we’ll inform you the date and time to report with your belongings if you’re accepted.”_

_He takes a seat in front of the three staff, and the woman at the front leans forward. “Kang Yeosang, is it?”_

_“Yes_ , _ma’am.”_

_“Oh, no need to call me ma’am. Yeosang, do you have any talents? Rapping, dancing, singing? B-boying? Anything of that sort?”_

_His eyes widen, wholly unprepared. He should’ve known they’d ask him questions like this, but it had completely slipped his mind._

_“I can sing? I took a few vocal lessons back then.” Yeosang offers. He had taken vocal lessons in his last few years of elementary school, with the head of the school choir offering him lessons. But that had stopped after a few months, because his mother had ran out of money to pay the bills that month—much less pay for his extra-curriculars._

_“Oh, I see. Can you sing us a song? Doesn’t need to be particularly long, just so we can get a feel of your abilities and tone.” The male at the other end asks._

_He clears his throat awkwardly, trying to think of a song he remembered. “Any song?”_

_“Any song. A pop song will do.”_

_The only song that comes to his mind is Andante by Super Junior, something his choir instructor had been obsessed with when it came out, so he decides to go with that._

_Slowly, he starts the opening notes of the song, and manages to finish up till the second chorus without any glaring mistakes, so he takes it as a win. There’s silence from the three staff, so assuming the worse, he looks up._

_The staff in the centre begins clapping, smile spreading slowly across his face, and the other two join in. “That was amazing, Yeosang! We’ll contact you soon.”_

Three weeks later, he stands outside the dorms, trying to pull his frozen fingers off his luggage handle to knock on the door. Manager Lee ruffles his hair, laughing at his apparent nervousness. “Don’t worry. The boys are nice.” With that, he twists open the door handle. 

“Boys, this is Yeosang, a new trainee. Be nice to him, alright?” Manager Lee says, and nudges him in gently, shutting the door behind him with a soft goodbye. 

Yeosang stares, slightly terrified, at the huddle of boys on the couch, staring up at him like he’s a new species they’ve never seen before. “Hi...?” It comes out more of a question than a greeting, and Yeosang winces internally. 

“Hi, Yeosang, was it? Nice to meet you, I’m Han Gyumin.” One of the older boys breaks the ice first, tone neutral but expression friendly. 

Yeosang nods. 

-

The new trainee is pretty, Wooyoung thinks, pretty in the way he thought he’d only see on his mother’s cheesy television shows. His head—his head is _tiny_ , and Wooyoung thinks about how, if he placed his own hand along Yeosang’s face, it would completely obscure his delicate, ethereal features. 

“Yeosang,” he says out loud to the empty silence of his dorm room, testing the syllables out in his mouth. He likes the way it feels, the way it sounds. “Yeosang.” He thinks, _maybe I can ask him to visit that new chicken place._

-

Yeosang walks silently, lagging behind from the group of trainees. They were nice enough to him back at the dorms, introducing themselves and telling him the important things he needed to know about trainee life, but he wasn’t brave enough to go up and insert himself into their conversation. He stays at the back of the group, not far enough for him to lose sight of them—getting lost now would be disastrous—but far enough for him to distance himself from their conversations and not feel awkward. 

“Hi!” Someone says cheerfully, and Yeosang startles, looking up abruptly. There’s a slightly shorter boy walking next to him, sun-kissed skin glowing dimly in the soft autumn sunlight. “I’m Wooyoung.”

“Yeosang,” He replies, unsure how to react. “I know, you introduced yourself already.” Wooyoung laughs, but it’s not unkind. Yeosang looks down at the road, heart beating ridiculously fast for absolutely no reason.

“How old are you?” Wooyoung asks. 

“Sixteen.” Yeosang mumbles, confused as to why he was still talking to him. Didn’t Wooyoung have friends in the group of trainees? “Oh, I’m sixteen too! Yeonjun too! You got assigned to the the first room on the right, isn’t it? Both of us are there too!”

At Yeosang’s blank look, Wooyoung hurries to explain. “Yeonjun? You know, the one with really thick lips?” 

Yeosang laughs out loud, and Wooyoung grins, pleased. “You a vocalist?” 

“Yeah. You too?” Yeosang asks hesitantly. He isn’t entirely sure if Wooyoung had really approached him to be friends, or simply because he pitied Yeosang for being new to the company and not having any friends. 

It seems to be the right thing to say, because Wooyoung smiles blindingly. “I’m a dancer! They approached me after I performed at my school’s festival, and here I am! Did you audition?”

“No, one of the scouts came up to me and asked me to consider joining.”

Wooyoung nods thoughtfully. “Makes sense, considering your face.”

“My...face?” Yeosang touches his cheek consciously. “What’s wrong with it?” He knew he had a glaringly obvious birthmark on the side of his face, but he wasn’t _deformed_ , was he? 

“Oh, I just meant that you have a really nice face. You’re pretty.” Wooyoung says, earnest and straightforward in the way only sixteen year olds can be. Yeosang feels his cheeks redden, and he pinches his side. It’s not like he hasn’t been complimented on his looks before, but it feels different, coming from the smiley, glowing boy beside him. 

“Thanks, you too?” 

Wooyoung laughs, and it must be contagious, because Yeosang finds himself laughing too.

-

Being a trainee is—tiring, for one. Turns out, being hired by an entertainment agency does not excuse Yeosang from Korea’s education system, and he drags himself out of bed at five in the morning to take the long commute to school. 

He transfers school to the same one as the other trainees, and finds that it’s easier to integrate himself into a crowd of people who’re going through the same thing as you. Wooyoung sticks close to him—or rather, he sticks close to Wooyoung. He finds out that the other boy has a penchant of dozing off on the train ride to school, and often falls asleep leaning against someone else.

As it is, Yeosang’s leaning against the wall of the train carriage, and Wooyoung has head tipped on his shoulder, mouth open and snoring lightly. Yeonjun, standing a few people away, snorts silently at his predicament, shrugging as if to say _you’re on your own._

Yeosang finds that doesn’t actually mind it. 

What he minds, however, is their practices running late into the night, and by the time he reaches the dorms, he barely has a few hours to sleep before they all have to get up to go to school. For the first few weeks, it’s difficult. He sleeps through his phone alarm, and through Yeonjun trying to wake him up, and it’s only when Wooyoung physically tries to drag him out of bed does he rouse, blinking sleepy. “What?” He mumbles, and Wooyoung pulls his blankets off. 

“Did you know you sleep like the dead? Anyway, you have to get up before we’re all late for school!” Wooyoung shows him the time on his phone, and suddenly Yeosang is wide awake, trying to brush his teeth and comb his hair, while simultaneously pulling the uniform shirt over his arms. 

The vocal lessons and dance training sessions aren’t the worst thing. He hasn’t sung properly sinceelementary school, but singing comes easily to him, and he takes to it like a fish in water. 

Dancing was a slightly more complicated event. With absolutely no background in dance, he finds himself struggling to keep up with the choreography taught by the instructor, and on most accounts, he finds himself windmilling his arms and hoping that it looks passable. 

Wooyoung helps, though. He pulls Yeosang by the hand into a vacated practice room, connects his phone to the bluetooth speaker and goes through what the instructor had taught that day, and Yeosang listens. 

Yeosang has never fancied himself much of a social person, but when he’s around Wooyoung, it’s almost impossible not to want to talk to the other boy, to listen to him go on and on about his day, to want to learn more about him. Yeosang isn’t that much of a talker, but with Wooyoung, the words come easy—as if he’s known the other boy in their previous lifetimes. He’d been worried that he’d regret his decision, fresh into the entertainment field and naive, but with Wooyoung there, it’s infinitely better. 

-

“So, the new trainee...” Yeonjun trails off, a suggestive glint in his eyes. 

“What about Yeosangie?” Wooyoung grunts tiredly, slumped against the mirror of the practice room. The other boy had gone back to the dorms with some of the other trainees upon Wooyoung’s insistence that he wanted to practice more, so he was stuck with Yeonjun for now. 

“Oh, so it’s _Yeosangie_ now?” Wooyoung reaches over to smack Yeonjun, and he retaliates by kicking Wooyoung hard in the shin. “He’s pretty, right?” Yeonjun continues. 

Wooyoung blinks in shock. “I didn’t think you noticed that type of things.” 

“Don’t worry, I’m not interested. He’s not my type, but I’m just pointing out what you think.” Yeonjun says this so matter-of-factly that Wooyoung is almost inclined to give in and admit that yes, he does think Yeosang is one of the prettiest boys he’s ever seen.

“But it’s not just because he’s pretty, is it?” Yeonjun says, and Wooyoung sighs. 

“Yeah. I mean, anyone with eyes can see that he’s above average in terms of looks, but do you ever get the urge that you need to, I don’t know, protect him?” 

“Like a baby lamb?” Yeonjun asks skeptically. 

“Yes, exactly!” Wooyoung snaps his fingers and points at him. 

“No, I can’t say I do. Isn’t Yeosang older than you? And also, taller than you?”

“Whatever. He looks so quiet—and he is an introvert, I guess, but it’s surprisingly easy to talk to him considering we’ve just met a month ago? His voice is so pretty, and his hair is so soft.”

“His hair.” Yeonjun deadpans. 

“His hair! And his little birthmark on his face is the cutest thing, and he can be really funny when he wants to. Did you know that he’s actually really smart? He didn’t tell me, but I found out from his social media that he was one of the top in his previous school—which is one of the top schools in Seoul, by the way!” 

“Wow, you should ask him for help for your homework. To spend more time with him, since you obviously aren’t already spending all of your free time with him.” Yeonjun says, sarcasm thick in his voice. 

Wooyoung clearly doesn’t hear it, because his eyes light up, and Yeonjun regrets it immediately. “That’s not a bad idea, actually.”

-

The dial tone rings, and rings, and reaches the beeping tone, indicating that his mom hadn’t picked up at all. Yeosang worries at his lower lip, legs dangling idly from the upper bunk. His mom should be picking up, since her job usually ended by nine—and it’s already midnight. It wasn’t possible that her phone contract got cut off, was it? He dials her number again, gripping his phone tightly. 

“Yeosang?” His mom’s voice comes through, familiar and warm. “Mom!” He says a little too loudly, and Yeonjun stirs in the opposite bunk bed. 

“How are you, Yeosang?” She asks, and Yeosang smiles. “It’s great. The trainees here are nice, and I’ve made friends with a couple of them. The lessons and practices aren’t too bad, either.”

“That’s great, but what are you doing up so late?” 

“Oh, practice usually ends around this time, or later. How’s the house?”

“I haven’t had the chance to tell you yet, but I got a promotion at the clerk position I’m working at. They made me a secretary in the finance department. And your father is coming back from Japan soon, his contract with his old company—you know, the one that pays peanuts—is almost over.” His mom says, and Yeosang can hear the genuine note of happiness in her voice, and relief floods him. 

“Does that mean the bills for this month are settled?”

“I think it means the bills are settled for pretty much the entire year, and if I do well, the rest of our lives. And your sister’s scholarship at her university is still secure, too.” 

“I—that’s good.” Yeosang’s grip on his phone loosens, as well as the tightly-wound bundle of worry and stress in his heart. 

“You must be tired, hm? I’ll let you sleep now. Goodnight, I love you.” His mom says softly. 

“Goodnight. Me too.”

“Say it properly!”

Yeosang snorts quietly. “Love you too, mum.” She hangs up, and Yeosang puts his phone away and falls back onto the pillows, staring at the ceiling. 

His family is fine, and the house is safe. Now all there’s left to do is to debut, and he swears that he’ll do it—if not for himself, then for all the people that’ve ever helped him.

-

“Yeosang, do you like idol singers?” Wooyoung asks. Somehow, this topic of conversation had never come up before, and he’s curious. 

“I would hope so, if not I don’t see why I would be in this entertainment company training to be an idol.” Yeosang remarks drily, and Yeonjun laughs delightedly. “I love it when Yeosang is mean to you.”

Wooyoung pouts. “I’m just asking to be sure!”

“And now he’s going to tell you all about that boy group of his.” Yeonjun whispers loudly, which Wooyoung chooses to ignore in favour of pushing his seat closer to Yeosang eagerly. 

“You know Big Hit debuted a boy group last year, right?” 

“I’ve heard of it.”

“They’re called BTS! You should go and watch their music videos and their shows, I promise they’re really really cool.” Wooyoung says, eyes bright, and makes Yeosang promise to watch their videos, clapping happily when he does. 

-

When Yeosang walks into the dorms, having being released two hours earlier than usual, he’s immediately accosted by Wooyoung. “Yeosangie! Have you watched? Have you watched their music videos?”

Yeosang almost wants to say no, just to tease Wooyoung, but he sees the eager spark in his eyes and can’t bring himself to do it. “Yeah, I did.”

“And? How was it? Do you like them?”

“They’re okay, but...”

“But?”

“They don’t really appeal to me.” Yeosang says, neutral. Wooyoung gasps over-dramatically, eyes widened. Yeonjun snickers from the bottom bunk, clearly eavesdropping. 

“Wait, I’m not saying I don’t like them!” Yeosang says hurriedly. “Their music and vibe just isn’t my style, I think?”

Wooyoung pouts. “Then what’s your style?”

Yeosang hums thoughtfully. “I guess I like SHINee? They’re the only group who I keep up with, and their songs are really good.”

“Oh, yeah! I think Gyumin likes them too? I like their songs too.” Wooyoung nods, appeased, and Yeosang sighs internally in relief. _Crisis averted_ , he thinks. “But I think you should make up to me in some way.” Wooyoung continues. 

Yeosang eyes him warily. “What?”

“You’re not going to ask what it is?”

“Wooyoung, I said _what_?”

“That’s not asking!” Wooyoung protests. 

“Are you going to ask me to help you do your homework again? Because if it is, I told you, I can’t do it for you. You’re going to flunk out of high school at this rate.” Yeosang says. 

“No! I mean yes, I need your help, but this is different!” Wooyoung flails, and when Yeosang tries to dodge him and get to his bed, he clings onto Yeosang’s arm, eyes wide and pleading. 

“What is it?”

“Do you want to go with me to the chicken store down the road?” Wooyoung asks, almost shyly. Yeonjun fake retches in the background, and Wooyoung picks up a stray sock and throws it over his shoulder without looking. 

“Oh, why didn’t you say so earlier? I’ve been meaning to go and try it for ages. Tomorrow?” Yeosang agrees easily, and Wooyoung beams happily. 

-

Wooyoung pays for the fried chicken, and Yeosang protests just a little before sighing and letting it be. “If you want to pay for all of our future meals, I’m all for it.” He tells Wooyoung, who wrinkles his nose and says that they can take turns to pay.

-

_Autumn, 2015_

A year passes without much fanfare, and Yeosang takes the bus home for Chuseok. 

The house has remained exactly the same from when he left a year ago, and Yeosang revels in the familiarity, the warm comfort of home and his mother. 

Yet, it feels like there’s an integral part of him that he’d left behind in central Seoul, and he finds himself thinking about it while sitting at the top of a ramp, running his fingers over his skateboard idly. He had been so sure of his future a year ago—graduate high school at the top of his class, get a scholarship to a decent university, graduate and get the highest paying job he could find in order to support his family. 

Being a trainee was nowhere near any part of his future plans, and if anyone told him a year ago that he’d spend twelve hours a day staring at himself in the mirror, trying to figure out how to execute the next dance move, he would’ve laughed in their faces. 

And—Wooyoung. Wooyoung, he thinks, might just be one of the oddest people he’s met his entire life. When he’d first set foot into the company, namecard in hand, he expected to pass his entire time training alone, with one or two acquaintances at the most. He definitely had not expected anyone to attach themselves to him, and willingly spend time with him—there were so many other funnier, cooler trainees than him. 

But Wooyoung had chosen him, and from the moment the other boy had come up to him, smiling brightly, and introduced himself, Yeosang had known it was impossible not to get attached to him, no matter how distant or emotionally detached he tried to appear.

Wooyoung had grown on him, and Yeosang finds himself missing the bright-eyed, sun-kissed boy. Too bad they were miles away from each other—they didn’t even live in the same neighbourhood, and to take the train or bus down would take ages, and what if Wooyoung was busy?

His phone vibrates, and he flips the old iPhone model over, and the cracked screen lights up. 

_wooyoung: heyyyyyyyyyy_

Yeosang blinks in shock at the sudden message, and almost drops his phone down the ramp as he fumbles to unlock it. _heyy, what’s up?_ he types, and then pauses, finger hovering over the send button. Would that sound too enthusiastic? Maybe Wooyoung was just texting out of courtesy. 

_yeosang: what_

_wooyoung: :((_

_wooyoung: wyd now_

_yeosang: texting you?_

Wooyoung sends a string of exasperated emojis, followed by an even longer string of eye-rolling emojis, and Yeosang stifles a snort, rolling his eyes at Wooyoung’s antics. 

_yeosang: i_ ‘ _m at the skatepark near my house_

_wooyoung: coolz beanz_

_wooyoung: emo sk8er boi yeosang_

_wooyoung: HAHAHAHAHA_

_yeosang: ha_

_wooyoung: okok_

_wooyoung: i’m boreddddd_

_yeosang: ok...and?_

_wooyoung: no one i know from seoul lives in jinju with me :(_

_yeosang: ok...and???_

_yeosang: no one i know from seoul lives with me in pohang either_

_wooyoung: ;)_

_yeosang: no_

_wooyoung ;))))_

Yeosang huffs out loud and looks up, as if expecting Wooyoung to materialise in front of him. He doesn’t, and looks back at his tiny phone screen. 

_wooyoung: whyyyyyyyy notttt_

_yeosang: we have two days of break left_

_wooyoung: !!!!!! exactly !!!!!! we can just go back to seoul from jinju directly!!!!!!!!!_

_yeosang: wooyoung i’m not paying to travel almost three whole hours just to see you_

_wooyoung: JUST?!?!?!?!?_

_wooyoung: ok BE like that then!!!_

_wooyoung: i’ll just go down to pohang then_

_yeosang: what_

_wooyoung: never been there before so you gotta pick me up from the station k_

_yeosang: wooyoung my house doesn’t have enough space for you_

_wooyoung: it’s k i’ll sleep on the floor_

_yeosang: wooyoung_

_yeosang: wooyoung_

_yeosang: jung wooyoung_

When he doesn’t receive a response after ten minutes, Yeosang shoves his phone back into his pocket, and jumps off the ramp, skating back to his house. To his despair, his mom agrees happily to let Wooyoung stay over, even forcing Yeosang to clean out his room and making him promise to pick Wooyoung up from the station. 

“You better to be nice to him, Yeosang! He’s travelling all the way down here to meet you, he must really be someone special.” His mom says, getting ready to go out to get groceries to cook for them. 

“Yeah.” Yeosang says to the empty house. “He is.”

-

Wooyoung arrives the next day, all bright smiles and loud laughs, and his mom falls in love with him instantly. “Oh, Yeosang, why haven’t you brought him home before?” She beams, ruffling Wooyoung’s hair and squeezing his cheeks, and Wooyoung hugs her back, eyes squinting with the force of his smiles. 

“Mom, I can’t just bring him home, we’re in Seoul, not the house just across.” Yeosang huffs, Wooyoung’s bags heavy on his back. 

“Yeah, Yeosangie, why didn’t you bring me home?” Wooyoung accuses, and makes no move to help him with his own bags. 

-

To Yeosang’s despair, Hyungseob comes over that evening, not only intruding into their home, but forcing his way into their dinner, and Yeosang’s mom welcomes him with a hug and a smile. “So, Wooyoung, is it?” Hyungseob says loudly, elbows on the table and leaning towards Wooyoung. 

“That’s me! And you’re Hyungseob, right?” 

Hyungseob nods in acknowledgment, and asks, “So how badly has Yeosang messed up? Has he been kicked out yet? Sprained any ankles during dance practices? Tell me all about it.”

Yeosang groans helplessly, stabbing his chopsticks into the bowl of rice. “Wooyoung, shut up.”

But of course, Wooyoung ignores him, and says, “Yeosang is a secret dance legend.”

“No way.” Hyungseob scoffs, and Yeosang mirrors the sentiment. 

“Yes! Yeosang, tell him!”

“I messed up so badly I fell on my face during the first monthly evaluations.” Yeosang deadpans, and his mom stifles a laugh through a mouthful of sweet and sour pork. 

“No, after that!”

“After that?”

“He did so well for the next one that the instructor complimented him!” Looking around at everyone’s slightly shocked faces, Wooyoung adds on eagerly, “the instructor never compliments anyone. Ever. Like, not even Yeonjun, and that dude is a monster trainee. The most he’s said to me was that my footwork was marginally less worse than the day I’d joined!”

“What else have you been keeping from us, Yeosang?” His mom says mock-sternly, and Yeosang heaves a sigh of exasperation, turning a glare on Wooyoung. He raised his hands, smiling innocently. “I’m just saying it like it is!”

-

“I meant it, you know?” Wooyoung says from his futon next to Yeosang’s bed. His voice is soft, vulnerable, and that’s how Yeosang knows that Wooyoung’s serious about—about whatever he was talking about. 

“Meant what?” Yeosang responds quietly.

“Your dancing has really, really improved from the first time we met.”

“You’re not worried that I’ll overtake you and steal your debut position?” Yeosang means it as a joke, as something to brush off, because it was impossible. Impossible for Yeosang to debut and for Wooyoung to get left behind, because that’s just not how the world worked. The world was made for people like Wooyoung to shine, to gain fame and recognition, and not so much for those like Yeosang. People like him were more likely to be forgotten, at most a pretty face in a crowd of beautiful trainees, left to fade into anonymity. 

“No. Even if you do, I’d say you deserve it.” Wooyoung says firmly. 

“Don’t worry, it’s impossible.” 

“What do you mean?” Wooyoung asks, a note of confusion in his voice. 

“You know,” Yeosang says vaguely, pulling his blankets higher, “You’re you, and I’m me.”

“Yeosang, what does that mean?” The confusion turns to seriousness, and Yeosang peers around the edge of his bed. Wooyoung is sitting up, and the silvery moonlight spilling from the window casts his features in an ethereal glow, highlighting the soft edges of his face that he’d yet to grow out of. Yeosang blinks, and Wooyoung is staring at him, eyebrows furrowed. 

“It’s just...everyone loves people like you, right? You’re bound to debut, Wooyoung.”

“And you’re not?” 

“It’s different. We’re different.”

To Yeosang’s surprise, Wooyoung reaches up and grabs his hand, and grips his fingers tightly. “We are. But you don’t see how everyone else looks at you, do you? How the trainers remark about your improvement and talent, how the younger trainees look up to you and the way they gravitate towards you—even Gyumin likes you, and he’s so grumpy.” Wooyoung’s gaze is magnetic, eyes wide and reflecting the silver shine of the moon, and Yeosang can’t seem to pull away from him. 

“Gyumin likes me?” He says weakly.

Wooyoung sighs so loudly that Yeosang begins to worry that they’d woken his mother up. “I am going to punch you in the face if you keep this up.” He threatens, and Yeosang blinks, smiling faintly at the complete lack of malice in his tone.

“Sorry?” He feels Wooyoung’s fingers flex around his hand, and tries to subtly pry his hand away, but Wooyoung only holds on tighter. “Do you understand, Yeosang? You deserve it. You deserve more than anyone else to debut. I don’t get why you’re so adamant about this!”

“You too?” Yeosang says hesitantly, and with a groan, Wooyoung kicks off the blankets on his mattress and climbs up to Yeosang’s bed, hand still clasped firmly in his own.

“I’m not going to debut without you.” Wooyoung says it with so much conviction in his tone, gaze burning, and Yeosang can only stare back in him in disbelief—and just a little flicker of hope. “You can’t just say things like that.” Yeosang frowns.

“Things like what?”

“Like—like you’re so sure that we’re going to debut together. There are so many other better trainees out there, and you’re choosing me out of everyone else?”

“I don’t know how many times I’ll have to say this for you to understand, but you’re not just anyone. You’re my best friend, and my first choice no matter what. You’re Yeosang, you know? Some of them call you ice prince, but you’re not just a visual. You’re so incredibly talented and hard-working, and your vocal tone is prettier than anyone I’ve ever met. You look quiet and a little standoffish to people who don’t know you well, but I’d like to think I do. Remember that time I hid in a practice room to cry after Yeonjun beat me in the dance evaluations? Yeah, you found me and sat next to me for two hours without complaining even once.” Wooyoung exhales, and they’re so close to each other that Yeosang can feel his breath fan across his face.

“I didn’t even do much.” He protests.

“Yes, you did. Just by sitting next to me, it made me feel like there were people—that there was someone out there who believed in me.”

Yeosang doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he squeezes Wooyoung’s hand lightly, and Wooyoung extricates his hand from Yeosang’s, lifting up a pinkie finger. “Promise we’ll debut together, no matter what.”

“Even if I run over your feet with my skateboard because you were being too annoying?” Yeosang giggles quietly, and Wooyoung rolls his eyes. “Yes, even that.”

Yeosang lifts up his right hand, and links it with Wooyoung’s. “I promise.”

“Okay, now that we’ve pinkie promised on it, you can’t break it or else the person who breaks it will have to buy the other lunch every week!” Wooyoung announces.

Yeosang pulls his hand away and hits the top of Wooyoung’s head. “You can’t just say that now!”

“Oh, but I did!” Wooyoung laughs, and stays firmly rooted onto Yeosang’s bed even when he tries to push him off, and Yeosang gives up.

“Night, Sangie.” Wooyoung whispers.

“Night.”

-

When Yeosang wakes up the next day with Wooyoung’s leg flung over his waist and both arms clinging tightly around him, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he closes his eyes, smiling softly, and goes back to sleep.

-

_Winter, 2015_

“Wake up!” Someone half-shouts in his ears, and Yeosang rolls over, face smushed against his pillow.

The person pulls on his blanket, and Yeosang clutches tightly to it. “Go away, or I’ll kick you.” He mumbles into the pillow, and whoever it is huffs in impatience, and suddenly there’s an unwelcome weight on his back. “Sangie, it’s the first snow!” The intruder, who he identifies as Wooyoung, says excitedly, and Yeosang grunts, shoving him off.

Wooyoung lands on the ground with a heavy thud, but it doesn’t seem to deter him. “Come _on_ , Sangie, it snowed last night! If you don’t get up I’ll get Yeonjun and Hyungseob to pour snow into your bed at night.”

Groaning, Yeosang kicks off his blankets and stands up stiffly, glaring at the unwelcome presence sitting on his bed. “Just for a few minutes, then I’m going back to sleep.” Wooyoung nods eagerly, and drags him outside.

It doesn’t take a few minutes. Wooyoung, in fact, forces him to stay outside—in almost sub-zero temperatures—for over an hour, and when Hyungseob pelts him in the back with a crudely-made snowball, he resigns himself to gathering snow in mounds to stuff down Wooyoung’s jacket.

-

_Spring, 2016_

_Just a little bit more,_ Yeosang thinks, as the song draws to an end, _a little more practice and the choreography will be perfect—_

The music shuts off abruptly, and he looks up. “What?” He snaps, and regrets it almost instantly when Wooyoung frowns, still holding the Bluetooth speaker up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you.” He wipes the sweat off his forehead with his shirt.

“How long have you been in here for?” Wooyoung asks, tone gentle.

“Uh, maybe one or two hours? Since ten in the morning? The clock in here is broken, I think.” Yeosang reaches out and Wooyoung gives him back the speaker, ready to start practicing again.

“It’s six in the evening, Sangie.” Wooyoung shows him the time on his phone, and Yeosang raises an eyebrow, surprised. Had it really been eight hours?

Sighing, Wooyoung plops unceremoniously on the ground, pulling Yeosang to sit down with him. “Why are you pushing yourself so hard?”

“Isn’t everyone?” Yeosang mutters, slumped against the wall. He hadn’t really noticed how tired he was until now, and he’s suddenly hyper-aware of how all his muscles seem to burn from exertion.

“No, not like this. I know you want to debut as fast as possible—everybody does—but you’re going to burn out at this rate.” Wooyoung says seriously.

“Because I need to catch up with the rest of you!” Yeosang bursts out, surprising himself with the vitriol in his tone. Visibly softening, he continues, “Hyungseob joined later than me, but somehow he’s already gained the favour of the trainers with how naturally charismatic he is. Yeonjun ranks first in almost every evaluation, and all the trainees go to you for help with their dance.”

“But the trainers told all of us you’ve improved so much since you first joined the company!”

“That’s not enough! I don’t just want to improve, I want to be good! I want to be recognised for being talented, not for improvement.” He spits out the last word like a curse, and then puts his head into his hands. “It’s not going to be enough.”

He hears Wooyoung exhale heavily, and then he’s being tugged up, Wooyoung’s hands gripping softly onto his shoulders, steering him out of the room, and he follows without resistance. “Where are we going?”

“Out. You need a break.” Wooyoung picks up Yeosang’s bag at the doorframe and continues walking without hesitation.

“Where?”

“Do you trust me or not?” He says exasperatedly.

“Is that a trick question?”

“Do you?”

“I don’t think we’re close enough.” Yeosang remarks.

“We’ve been friends for almost 2 years, Sangie, what are you saying?” Wooyoung lets go of his shoulders once they’re out of the company building, and walks beside him, shoulders brushing.

“I wouldn’t say friends,” Yeosang reaches out for his bag, “maybe acquaintances?”

“Okay, be like that then. I’m not going to pay for your dinner.” Wooyoung scoffs. “I’m joking, I’m just teasing you!” Yeosang laughs, and Wooyoung smiles.

“We’re here.” He announces as they turn the corner of the street, and Yeosang blinks in mild surprise at the glaring fluorescent lights of the chicken shop. “You dragged me out to eat _chicken_?”

He’s pushed into the store, and Wooyoung shoves him down into a seat. “He’s paying for your dinner, and this is the way you treat him?” Yeonjun pushes the basket of fried chicken over to his side, and Yeosang’s eyes drift from Yeonjun, to Hyungseob, busy with the drumstick in his hand, and someone with a really prominent chin he’s never seen before.

“Yeosang, this is Changbin. Changbin, Yeosang. Okay, now you’re friends, so Yeosang, shut up and eat.” Wooyoung pulls out a stool next to Yeosang and picks up a drumlet.

“Who is he?” Yeosang whispers into Wooyoung’s ear. “Forgot how I met him, but he’s a trainee rapper in JYP.” Wooyoung whispers back.

Yeosang looks up, and finds Changbin staring at him, head tilted slightly.

He looks back at Wooyoung, eyebrows raised. _He looks like he’s plotting a murder._

Wooyoung rolls his eyes at him. _He kinda looks scary but he’s really not, don’t worry. I think he sleeps with a stuffed toy or something._

_Are you sure?_ Yeosang squints at Wooyoung.

“Okay, can you two stop doing your weird telepathic shit now?” Hyungseob breaks in, mouth stuffed full but somehow still managing to talk.

“It’s not telepathy!” Yeosang protests, as the same time as Wooyoung retorts, “it’s not weird!”

They look at each other. “It’s not telepathy.” Yeosang says firmly, and his eyes drift to Changbin again, who has a single eyebrow raised.

As the night progresses, he learns that all of them are born in 1999, to which Wooyoung claims loudly that fate brought them all together. Changbin, true enough, is completely harmless, as Yeosang learns when he laughs at one of Yeosang’s dry quips to Wooyoung.

“You’re funnier than that guy over there.” Changbin smiles, nodding at Wooyoung, who’s plastered himself to Yeosang’s side, arms wrapped around his waist and head leaning heavily on his shoulder. “Thanks, you’re not too bad yourself.” Yeosang slaps the side of Wooyoung’s head.

“Get up, stop acting like you’re drunk.” Yeosang nudges him again, and Wooyoung mumbles incoherently.

“Sorry, Changbin. I think I have to bring him home. Hyungseob, Yeonjun, I’ll see you at the dorms?” Yeosang picks his bag up, standing, and Wooyoung collapses to the floor with a groan. Suddenly awake, he picks himself off the ground and grabs his phone from the table. “Bye!” Wooyoung says hurriedly, and he’s out of the door in a flash.

“They always like that?” Changbin asks rhetorically, and Yeonjun sighs. Hyungseob nods, and they watch Wooyoung running down the sidewalk, yelling at Yeosang to wait for him.

-

Yeosang is many of Wooyoung’s firsts. First best friend, first training partner, first person he’d willingly go to eat chicken with five times a week. So, it only makes sense that Yeosang would absolutely have to be the one to go with him when he gets his first piercing.

“Absolutely not.” Yeosang rejects him, and Wooyoung instantly starts whining. “Why not?”

“You can go and pokes holes into your body by yourself. There’s no way I’m going with you.” He says heartlessly, and Wooyoung pouts, grabbing onto Yeosang’s arms as they walk back to the dorms. “Please?”

“No.”

“Yes!”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“No.”

“Y—Woo, you know that’s not going to work on me.” Yeosang smacks Wooyoung’s head, but he refuses to give up this easily.

“I’ll pay for your piercing too!”

“Who said I was going to get pierced too? I just told you I’m not going!”

Unsurprisingly, Yeosang goes.

Wooyoung drags him to a piercing parlor in a suspicious alley. The doorframe itself is creaky, and the inside of the parlor is so dimly lit that Yeosang has to hold onto Wooyoung to prevent the shorter from tripping with every step they take. “What the hell, I told you this was a terrible idea!” Yeosang hisses, and Wooyoung shushes him impatiently.

“Hello, you must be Wooyoung! And his friend, I suppose?” A woman appears from the darkness, and Wooyoung almost screams. She’s dressed in horrendously bright clothing, the rows of piercings on her ears and face shining dully, and her hair is almost a neon pink. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. Both of you here for piercings?”

Glancing at Wooyoung, eyes blown wide, Yeosang sighs. “No, just him.”

“That’s too bad, we’re having a two-for-two sale!”

“Oh my god, Sangie, see! It’s fate, you have to get piercings too!” The boy in front of him seems to recover from his shock ridiculously quickly, and Yeosang has no choice but to follow the both of them into the store.

“I don’t have insurance, so you’re paying if I get an infection!”

-

_Autumn, 2016_

Yeosang lies awake in his bed, staring dully at the ceiling. All the trainees have to be at the company building by eight in the morning for an announcement, their manager says, but it’s not like any of them have any qualms about what the announcement entails.

“Thinking about the lineup announcement tomorrow?” Wooyoung whispers, sliding into Yeosang’s bed soundlessly, and he startles, slipping his phone under his pillow

“Yeah, a little.” Yeosang admits.

Wooyoung snorts. “A little? Don’t lie, please, I can see it written all over your face.”

“The room is dark. You can’t even see my face.” Yeosang deadpans.

“It’s not that dark, the window is open—okay, stop trying to distract me. What’s up? I can hear you thinking from the bottom bunk.” Wooyoung peers closely at him, and Yeosang closes his eyes, frowning. “Nervous, I guess.” He’s way past the point of being worried to be openly vulnerable to Wooyoung, and it goes both ways.

“Me too. I knew they were going to debut a new group, but I didn’t know they were going to announce the lineup so early.” Wooyoung pulls the covers over himself, and Yeosang snatches it back. “Share!” He whines, and tugs it back.

“Go back to your own bed.” Yeosang says, but both of them can tell his heart isn’t in it. They’re both silent for a while, the only sound in the room being Yeonjun’s soft snoring.

“It’s been two years since you joined the company, isn’t it?” Yeosang nods. “I’m really scared for tomorrow, Sangie.” Wooyoung confesses.

“I know.”

“I want to debut.”

“I know.” Yeosang says. “You will.”

“I want to debut with you.” Wooyoung confides.

Yeosang pauses for a while. “I know.”

Wooyoung shifts closer to him. “Remember that promise we made at your house last year?”

“That we’ll debut together?”

“I really mean it. I don’t think I want to debut without you.” Wooyoung curls a hand around Yeosang’s waist, and he lets him.

Yeosang doesn’t reply immediately. He can’t. “I know, Woo.”

Wooyoung tucks his head into the curve of Yeosang’s neck, hair brushing against his chin. “It’ll all work out.”

“Sleep tight.” He murmurs, and Wooyoung snuffles against his neck. “Night.”

-

He doesn’t make it in. Neither does Wooyoung. Yeonjun does, though, and he congratulates the other boy with all the happiness he can muster, smile not reaching his eyes. Yeonjun smiles back, and he sees a hint of sympathy, of sadness for him.

_you good?_ Wooyoung texts him, as Yeosang sits in a swing at a park near their dorms. Yeosang looks at the screen, eyes scanning the words but not really reading it. _yeah, don’t worry,_ he replies. He switches off his phone before another text can come in, and stares blankly into the distance.

Yeonjun’s debuting in their company’s group, Hyungseob’s at Yuehua, preparing for the survival show next year, and Changbin’s already in the confirmed line-up for JYP’s next boy group. _Where did I go wrong?_ He thinks despairingly.

He stands up from the swing, stumbling blindly. _I’m sorry, Wooyoung._

-

_Winter, 2016_

KQ Entertainment is vastly different from Big Hit, and Yeosang can’t tell if it’s for the better or worse. Firstly, there are way lesser trainees here, and the trainers are more personal, quicker to smiles and compliments when they deserve it.

Secondly, the atmosphere is warmer. Livelier, although that may have something to do with the perpetual loudness and screaming in the KQ dorm. Yeosang is awkward in the beginning, shying away from the trainees’ overwhelmingly friendly attempts to make him talk more.

In Big Hit, he had Wooyoung to introduce him to the trainees and help him through the awkward first phase of socialising, but there was no Wooyoung here to bail him out of situations when he didn’t know how to respond to the others’ friendly questioning. 

Then he meets Seonghwa, a slightly older trainee with a quieter disposition than Mingi and San, and he’s ridiculously relieved when the elder doesn’t feel the need to fill their silences with small talk and incessant chatter. Instead, Seonghwa gives him a (rather belated) tour of the KQ Entertainment building, and properly introduces Yeosang to the other trainees.

“Everyone, this is Yeosang, but I think you all already know that. Be nice to him.”

“Is it true that you trained in Big Hit?” Yunho asks. Yeosang nods, and San gasps. “Did you talk to _them_?”

“Who?” Yeosang says, confused.

“You know…them?” San gestures vaguely.

“…Them?” Yeosang scrunches his nose.

“I’m so sorry for him,” Hongjoong laughs, and Yeosang offers a tiny smile. “He means BTS. They’re from Big Hit, no?” Jongho says, and Yeosang can’t deny that he’s a tiny bit intimidated by the youngest.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve met them. Woo—sorry, another trainee, was a huge fan of them, but we don’t really get much opportunities to interact with the debuted idols.” Yeosang says apologetically.

“Still, I think it’s super cool you already have so much experience!” Mingi says, eyes wide in wonder.

“I wouldn’t say I have much experience,” Yeosang mutters, fingers twisting together nervously.

The six of them welcome Yeosang with bright smiles, and once he’s gotten more used to their enthusiasm, it’s definitely easier to breathe, feeling less like he’s slowly being suffocated with the constant need to be better, to outshine everyone. KQ promises him that they’ll include him into their potential lineup, and he feels like an invisible burden he hadn’t even known was there had been lifted from his chest.

Still, he thinks about the boy he’d left behind in his desperate, overwhelming need to debut. Wooyoung had been the first trainee to approach him with a smile, the first person he’d ever fully trusted himself with, the only person he’d made a promise to debut with. Wooyoung had carved himself a permanent space in Yeosang’s life, and now that he’d left him behind, Yeosang can feel the aching empty spot left behind.

There’s the guilt that fills him up when he’s alone, the regret that not even the six other boys or the promise of debuting can dispel, and the loneliness he feels, lying alone in his bed at night.

Sometimes he wonders, even though he was so close to achieving his goal, if leaving it all behind had even been worth it.

-

_Spring, 2017_

“Did you hear?” Mingi says eagerly. “There’s a new trainee coming in this week!”

“Who is it?”

“How would I know? Guess we’ll just have to wait for him to come in.”

“KQ rarely gets—rather, they rarely accept new trainees.” Hongjoong says, and the others murmur in assent. Yeosang wonders, absently, if the new trainee would be anything like him when he first entered the company.

-

“Don’t worry, the boys are nice.” Yeosang hears their manager say, and Jongho snickers. “Hear that, San? Don’t jump the new boy the moment he comes in.”

“Shut up, I’ve never done that before? Have I, Yeosangie?” San turns to him, eyes imploring for support. _Yeosangie,_ he thinks. _Haven’t heard that in a while_. “Sure, you haven’t.” Yeosang says drily, sarcasm thick, and San pouts.

The door clicks open, and the trainee enters, hand tightly clutching the handle of his suitcase, but smile fixed firmly on his face. “Hi, I’m—”

Yeosang blinks, gripping on to the arm of the couch, and he can feel his face going white. He feels his vision tunnelling, and all sound around him becomes background noise, eyes travelling upwards to the face of the new trainee.

“ _Oh_ ,” he whispers breathlessly, feeling like all the air in the room had been sucked out. His head spins, and his nails hurt from digging into the couch, but it all feels secondary from the overwhelming—the overwhelming, unidentifiable feeling of seeing him after thinking that he’d never be able to see him again, never be able to apologise properly, never be able to fulfil their promise.

Yeosang can hear the other trainees calling him, confusion and slight worry mixed into their voices, but he can only see the boy standing in the doorframe, his familiar features lit by the sunlight streaming into the room, eyes sparkling and soft with understanding and also the smallest tinge of nervousness. His mouth curves into a small, knowing, smile, and Yeosang can see the hope highlighted in his posture, in his face.

“ _I’m sorry_ ,” he tries to say, but the words get stuck in his throat.

But he understands. He always understands what Yeosang really means, despite it all, and Yeosang stands up from the couch slowly, heart jackhammering in his chest. The boy in the doorframe lets go of his suitcase handle, and Yeosang stumbles towards him, dizzy with disbelief and hope.

“I—” Yeosang hesitates, a few inches away from him, but again, he understands. “It’s okay, Sangie.” He murmurs, gaze warm, and with a tiny, almost inaudible sob, Yeosang covers the distance between them with a step, and then his arms are around him, soothing and familiar.

Yeosang doesn’t cry, but he buries his head into his neck, breaths coming out in breathless gasps. “ _You,_ ” He says, voice muffled against his shirt.

“I’m here.” Wooyoung breathes, voice shaking, and all Yeosang can do in that moment is close his eyes, and let all the guilt and tension drain out of him.

-

“Thought you could get rid of me so quickly?” Wooyoung says, half-hidden in the closet as he tries to sort through the mess of clothes he’d brought along.

“If only,” Yeosang scoffs. “But really, why are you here?”

Wooyoung turns around, hair ruffled, and Yeosang notices that he’s wearing the exact same shirt he wore when he’d crashed his house over a year ago, and quickly averts his eyes. “You remember what I said, don’t you?” He asks.

“You say a lot of things, Woo.”

“Our promise to debut together, no matter what? If we fail, we fail together, and if we succeed, we succeed together.” Wooyoung sits beside Yeosang on the bed, and Yeosang can’t bring himself to look at the boy beside him, the one who’d willingly left behind and risked all he’d known to be with Yeosang, can’t bear to look at the sincerity in his eyes.

Yeosang opens his mouth, but there are no words he can possibly say in order to convey the true depth of his feelings towards Wooyoung, and he can only stare at Wooyoung silently, his brain a jumbled mess of incoherent thoughts. _I’m sorry for leaving you behind,_ he wants to say, but an apology doesn’t feel right. _Thank you,_ he wants to say, but even he himself isn’t entire sure what he’s thanking Wooyoung for. For keeping to their promise even though Yeosang had left him behind without a word? For not giving up on him?

“You’re my first choice, remember? Nothing will ever change that.” He doesn’t know what to say, but Wooyoung understands, like he always does. “I’ll follow you anywhere, Yeosang.”

“Okay,” Yeosang finally says, looking up and meeting Wooyoung’s eyes. He manages a shrug, “I guess I’ll never actually manage to get rid of you.”

“Don’t lie, you love me.” Wooyoung says confidently.

Yeosang looks away, running a hand through his hair. “Wait, why does that shirt look so familiar?”

Wooyoung laughs nervously, standing up quickly and almost hitting his head on the bed frame. “What shirt?”

“That!” Yeosang points at the shirt sticking out of the pile of crumpled clothes, and Wooyoung shoves it back in messily. “What?”

“I can’t believe you tried to steal my shirt!” Yeosang glares at him.

“I didn’t steal it, I just never remembered to return it to you!”

“Why did you even take it in the first place?”

“Do you want it back or not?”

“No, you probably wore that shirt for a whole week without changing or something equally gross.”

“Hey—what’s wrong with wearing the same shirt for a whole week?”

_This,_ Yeosang thinks, relieved, _this is what it should feel like._ All at once, he feels like he’s back in Big Hit, back at the skatepark in his town, back at home, tucked into bed comfortably with a snoring Wooyoung next to him. For the first time in weeks, he feels like he can finally breathe properly.

-

_Spring, 2018_

Being in a confirmed line-up is not easy. Yeosang struggles more than ever before, constantly in fear of someone catching him when he’s lagging behind, of being left behind, of being kicked out of the debut group. Hongjoong, Mingi, Wooyoung and Jongho leave for Mixnine, and then they come back even more determined than before.

It’s not easy, but Yeosang had expected nothing less. Trainee life had prepared him for this, and he has seven other boys now. 

He has Wooyoung, as he’s always had since four years ago.

-

_25 thOctober, 2018_

“This jacket is way too big,” Yeosang fiddles at the sleeves of the grey jacket, eyebrows furrowed. The preparation room is a mess, their manager making calls every five seconds, and the stylist-noonas screaming at Mingi for messing up his makeup moments after they finished putting it on him. “Can’t I get a smaller one?” He looks up at the stylist, but she shakes her head apologetically and walks off to the next member.

“I think it’s fine, though?” Wooyoung appears beside him, perching on the edge of his seat. “Have you seen Seonghwa and Jongho’s outfits? They look like they’re wearing trash bags.”

Yeosang cracks a tiny smile at that, running his fingers over Wooyoung’s top. “It’s not like you’re much better, with that ugly leopard-print top.” Wooyoung scowls at him playfully, and the little ball of nerves in his chest loosen a little at the familiarity.

A staff member pokes his head in and announces that they’re to be on stage in fifteen minutes, which sends all the staff in the room into a fit of panic. “Come on, let’s go to the waiting room first.” Wooyoung nudges him, and Yeosang follows him quietly.

“You nervous?” Yeosang asks.

“Of course.” Wooyoung reaches out for his hand, and Yeosang lets him. The hallway is empty, devoid of other idols and staff, and it almost feels like the calm before the storm.

“I can’t believe this is actually happening.” He continues. “It almost felt like we were never going to make our debut.”

_We._ Yeosang thinks. “We made a promise, didn’t we? To debut together?”

Wooyoung’s eyes shine as he nods, reflecting the bright lights of the hallway. If Yeosang closes his eyes, he can almost pretend that they’re both three years younger, side-by-side on Yeosang’s bed, making promises where no one but themselves can hear. A little further back, and he can recall the exact moment when he stepped into his first entertainment agency, naïve and lost, and Wooyoung approached him for the first time, eyes bright and warm.

“I know this is scary.” Wooyoung murmurs, hand warm around Yeosang’s. “I’m scared, too. But I think, that as long as you’re here, it’s better. I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else but you.”

As the eight of them stand in their positions in the darkness of the stage, Yeosang looks to his side, and he sees Wooyoung looking back at him.

_This is it,_ he thinks. Their debut stage. What they’d been working so hard to achieve for the past few years. It’s scary, and he doesn’t know if they’ll make it in the industry. But as long as they were doing it together, Yeosang isn’t afraid.

The stage lights turn on, the cheers become exponentially louder, and Yeosang gives it his all.

**Author's Note:**

> haha hi so i have only written for nct and stray kids before so this is my first ateez fic! tbvh i was a casual…listener? of ateez since hala hala but woosang was what really dragged me into ateez hell like please how can u NOT love those 2 like their backstory is the SHIT! i was so sure there was alrd a canon fic but i read all their fics and i haven’t seen any so…this is it! i don’t like some parts of it very much but i hope it was at least a little enjoyable for yall 
> 
> my twitter is @apollohyucks, lez be friends!


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